


I Walk Alone

by Googline (Kanyau)



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Jessica Jones (Comics), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Crack Relationships, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, How Do I Tag, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanyau/pseuds/Googline
Summary: In a whirlwind of events, Jessica Jones’ life is turned upside down when she signs a temporary contract with Tony Stark who is in need of a Private Investigator with a little something extra. She finds herself investigating a murder of epic proportions. A murder that is somehow tied to organizations she’s only heard about in whispers, and nightmares. Throughout her investigation, she finds romance, friendship, and looks to begin healing some of the wounds of her past. Will what she uncovers threaten to tear apart all she’s finally managed to build up for herself. Can she allow herself to let people in. When the investigation is over will she even be alive to see it all through?





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

> I warn you. I have done what I want. I took what I wanted from the books/movies/websites/creator-comments. I try to keep the backgrounds of characters canon, but I cannot skim through all of the source material and ensure complete accuracy plus, what I don’t want/like I’ve changed. Moving forward is a story I thought would be interesting to tell, with characters I’ve admired for most of my life. I hope you enjoy it.  
> I have also sprinkled in some easter eggs from different fandoms. See if you can spot them!  
> Mild panic attack in the prologue, BE SAFE!

The woman was small, huddling in the corner with her camera.

He’d initially followed her because he had noticed that the press-identification around her neck was not hers. If she’d taken anyone else’s, he probably wouldn’t have noticed at all. However, Christine Everhart - the beautiful devil – had ensured that he remember her name. This tiny, mousy woman was no Everhart. He’d planned to confront her. Confiscate her camera, and question her about the whereabouts of that memorable reporter. Every step confident and assertive. She was in the wrong, he was in the right, she would be escorted out by security, and that would be that. It was with these thoughts that he’d rounded the corner with purpose, and frozen in his tracks.

The woman was shuddering, panting, and mumbling street names under her breath. Her left arm wrapped tightly around her middle as her right hand flicked aggressively over the camera’s display. Tears were threatening to spill over her eyes, and somewhere in that distant, look of terror, anger flashed. He should leave. He knew what this was. He’d had these before, when memories of the shadow of death in alien atmosphere haunted him. He really, really should leave. It’s just- Well… There was something so delicate about her. Doll-like, and porcelain, yet blunt. Where the real reporter was all buxom, and curves, this woman was all harsh angles, and soft edges. Where the reporter was loud, almost aggressive in her attractiveness. This shivering, mumbling, angry woman held a quiet, almost insidious beauty. Yes, she certainly was no Everhart. He truly shouldn’t be here, eavesdropping on her nightmare. He backed away slowly, and shuffled behind the wall. He was going to go. He really was, but, just one more look. Just one more.

He peeked his head around the corner just in time to see her spring to her feet, and jam the bulky camera into her head hard enough to hurt.

“Get it the fuck together Jones.” She spat through gritted teeth, blinking repeatedly until the threat of tears was well out of reach. Her voice was so soft, but the words were so harsh as she shook off the last vestiges of her panic attack. She felt to him, like one giant contradiction. Then, before he could think further of it, she cocked her left fist back, and struck the wall with such force the glinting marble paneling shattered apart. Her hand had gone clean through. “Shit” he heard her whisper. She hadn’t even tried. It was like poking through playdough to her. Her head swiveled to the side, searchingly, and he ducked quickly out of the way. If she’d seen him she didn’t indicate it. When he peeked back around she’d covered the hole with a decorative fern that previously sat in the corner of the hall. She chuckled humourlessly to herself, and shook her head. He took it as his que to finally walk away.

“Happy.” He called his assistants name into his wristwatch communicator after he’d traveled well out of earshot. “I think I found someone for the job.”


	2. BettHer Prospects

“No, that is the sound of my desk scraping the floor.” Jessica Jones - private detective, superhero, alcohol appreciator - spoke into the microphone on her headphones, as she continued the major remodeling of her hells kitchen apartment. Something her sister convinced her would be good for business after the massive destruction of the place, and the resulting re-construction.

“Why don’t you just pick it up?” Aforementioned sister, best friend, and (though she’d never admit it) emergency contact Patricia Walker’s reply crackles through the questionable connection of Jessica’s shoddy cell service.

“Because,” Jessica draws out the word. “I don’t have to.” She says. “Plus, the sound really annoys the new neighbour.”

“Always so kind.” Trish says. “Probably why you don’t have a boyfriend yet.” At this Jessica groans.

“I don’t know how many times we have to have this conversation Trish. I don’t have a boyfriend because I. Don’t. Want. A. Boyfriend.” She emphasizes each word separately. There’s a short pause before:

“Sure, you don’t” Crackles through the earpiece. “You want to know what I think?”

“Not really-”

“I think you’re scared of intimacy. I think you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t deserve to love, and be loved like that. Hell, half of the time you won’t even talk to me.”

“Why did you bother asking if you were just going to railroad-”

“It was a rhetorical question Jess, and don’t try and change the topic. You know I’m right” Jessica sighs into the receiver. This was a conversation they’d had a hundred different times, in a hundred different locations, with a hundred different words. All saying the same thing. Trish thought she deserved love, and was convinced Jessica was convinced otherwise. Then Jessica would try to convince her away from that conviction, and Trish would just argue back more convincingly. Basically, there was a lot of convincing attempted, but not much was actually successful. It was exhausting, and confusing, and in truth, Jessica wasn’t sure what she believed. All she knew was that if there was a badge for self-sabotage in the romance department she’d win first place, second place, third place, and even snag a participation ribbon just for the heck of it. Why? Well if Jessica could explain that, then these cyclic, redundant conversations probably wouldn’t be such a constant occurrence.

“Seriously Trish, I’m fine.”

“Are you really Jess? You know, you worry me. You’ve managed to isolate yourself from everyone, and everything, and I don’t know how to help you. You don’t have other friends, or other family and I don’t-

“You’re my friend, and family Trish. You’re enough.” Jessica growls defensively into the receiver.

“Yes, and like I was about to say; I don’t know what would happen to you if something were to happen to me.” Well for starters she’d have to find a new emergency contact.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Jessica says fiercely into the mouth piece. They were both quiet for a while, as static crackled across the line.

“You can’t protect me from everything Jessica… Who would love you if I were gone.” The sound of her full name on her sister’s lips silences her. The line goes static once again. “Of course, nothing is going to happen to me.” Trish appeases, breaking the awkward tension. Jessica releases breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “That doesn’t change your romance-phobia though.” She continues. “Have you considered therapy. After a trauma like th-”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to pay someone to play mind games with me. I’ve had more than enough of that for every lifetime I’ll ever live.” Jessica spits back.

“Jess, these people can help. I got a recommendation from a friend of mine for one Dr. Frances Quinzel? I’ve heard he’s really good. I can set up an appointment if you like.”

“I said no.”

“Then at least try Jess. At least put up a fight. Seriously. Did I mention that I’m worried about you?”

“Well stop.” She says.

“Jess I can’t just stop. I feel like you don’t even care about yourself. I feel like I’m the only one trying for the both of us sometimes. It hurts that you don’t want yourself to succeed, that you’re willing to just throw away any chance at happiness because you’re a little scared-” The sound of furniture clattering to the floor cut off her tirade.

“Stop nagging me!” She shouts into the mouthpiece. “God Trish, you sound like your mother.” There’s silence on the other end. The words were uncalled for. Not untrue, but that’s what made them so wrong. “I’m sorry. Trish, I’m sorry. That was a dick thing for me to say. It’s just because you’re probably right okay. You’re probably right, and I’m just scared, and I really don’t know why the thought of being in a relationship makes me feel so uncomfortable, and well… I’m sorry.” More static.

“It’s okay,” Trish says. Jessica lets out a sigh of relief. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Anyways. It’s not like I’ve seen you with a boy toy around your arm recently.” Jessica says, steering the conversation away from her remarks.

“Yeah, well the last dude who asked me out wrote the note in his own blood, and sent it through my fan-mail. So…”

“Shit Trish.” Jessica breathed. “Why not date like, I don’t know a normal person. Not a fan?”

“I don’t exactly have the best luck there either” She retorts. “In case you’ve forgotten; the last time I tried to have a relationship I ended up shooting at the guy.” There was a short pause, then:

“Same,” Jessica scoffed, and they both laughed. “What a pair huh?” Jessica says stepping to the corner of the room and looking over her handiwork. The place was still unfinished, but she could see the skeleton of her new office taking shape. Fuck business, this might be good for her.

“How about this.” Trish breathes into her ear, voice low. She knows what she’s doing. “How about we make a bet. Yeah?”

“What kind of bet.” Jessica’s interest is piqued.

“How about… We try. The next guy who shows interest, that we are also interested in, we have to try.”

“Parameters, Trish. What are the stakes, what are the conditions, how do I win?” A bet, like a game. Games are fun. Good distractions. Like alcoholism, but less people pity you when you loose.

“Six months. You can’t end it for six months, unless he violates your rights or something obvious. I have the same rules. Once both parties are in the relationship you can’t actively sabotage it for six months, no trying to get him to break up with you, no disappearing without ‘technically’ ending it, no e-relationships. You have to be able to touch them. Also, no avoiding interaction so you never have to be in a relationship in the first place.”

“Damn” Jessica mutters. Trish just chuckles.

“I win if you break it off, or break one of the rules. If we both last 6 months it’s a win-win. And. You win if I break it off, or break one of the rules, or if you last the whole 6 months or…” her voice goes soft and sneaky. “If he breaks up with you by himself.” Damn it. The odds were in her favour, and Jessica liked games she was likely to win. “Winner gets to make the loser do one thing. Deal?” Jessica pauses. Pretending to think it over, like the answer wasn’t already on the tip of her tongue.

“Deal.” At the chuckle emanating from the other end of the line, Jessica can’t help but feel she’s just made a terrible mistake. They go back to talking.

 

A sudden knock on her apartment door startles her from her organizing, as she listens to Trish ramble about prospective partners, work, and remodeling through her earpiece.

“Was that your door?” Trish asks after a moment.

“Shit service barely picks up my voice, but a knock across the room gets through.” It wasn’t a big apartment she conceded, but still. It was the principle of it. She shook her head and said. “You were saying something about more client seating?” Jessica tries feeding her a distraction.

“Aren’t your gonna get that?” Trish won’t bite. Hospitality is big with the Walkers. She rolls her eyes.

“No? There’s a sign out there; says we’re closed for remodeling. Idiot’s either illiterate, or arrogant. Neither options sound good for business.”

“Can you really afford to be so picky?” Trish says. “It’s not like you have unlimited funds, and it’s already going to be tight this month since you’re not taking new contracts.” The person knocks again, more insistently this time.

“Miss Jones?” Her name travels faintly down the hall. The voice is deep, and smooth, and makes Jessica feel funny. She doesn’t like feeling funny.

“Just get the door Jess.” Crackles through the receiver.

“Can’t you read? We’re closed!” She yells down the hallway.

“Ouch!” Sounds in her ear at the same time the voice says.

“I’d really like to talk to you. I think you’ll like what I have to offer.” Was that innuendo? Jessica can’t tell.

“Arrogant then.” She says into the microphone, and sighs. At least if he were illiterate she might have gotten rid of him. She swings the door open, and freezes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this was supposed to be different. We were gonna introduce Tony. There was going to be a setting change. We might have even gotten Trish IRL! Alas, sisters do like to talk. Plus, I’m working out conversational pitch, and pacing. I’m trying to figure out the best techniques for me to use to make the voices flow in a way that isn’t choppy, or sloppy. I’m also trying to balance this with character reactions: the phrasing and placement of them. As well, I’m messing around a but with dialogue descriptions. Be kind to me? Plus, when the two began talking, I couldn’t get them to shut up long enough to realize how long this had become without me getting to the next part of the story. Everything in its own time I suppose.  
> Sorry these notes are SO LONG  
> Comments plz!!! Constructive criticism as well if you feel so inclined. I don’t have a beta though, so if it’s about grammar just lmk and I’ll get on that as fast as I can. Last but not least: I hope you enjoyed this. If you want more, I update on Wednesdays. Happy Reading, and Be Good to People. To Google and BEYOND!


	3. A Guest – A Client

Tony Stark – billionaire, genius, the legendary and all-powerful Iron Man – can’t help but feel a little satisfaction that Jessica Jones has the same reaction to him as he had to her when he found her in that hallway almost two months ago. Though in this case, he can’t tell whether it’s due to his looks, or his reputation. The face on the other side of the door is frozen in a mix of surprise, annoyance, and a something unreadable simmering just below the surface. They study each other for a while in silence, and just as Tony opens his mouth to speak, the door is slammed in his face. Those clear amber eyes are suddenly replaced by the semi-translucent glass of her door that reads: ‘Alias Investigations’.

“Miss Jones, I assume you know who I am then?” A faint outline of the woman can be seen shifting in agitation through the thick glass nameplate.

“Yeah. You’re the illiterate prick who got me a bullet in the shoulder.” What? “All those brains and you can’t read? We’re closed. That’s C-L-O-S-E-D.” His eyes are involuntarily drawn to the piece of paper that does indeed read ‘closed for renovations’. “If you’re here for my services you can call the number at the bottom there and leave a message. If you’re not here for business, then as far as I’m concerned you’re not here at all.” He watches as her figure turns from the door and begins to walk away. A sight he’s unused to; it agitates him. Who does she think she is? Stubbornly, he knocks on the door again.

“Miss Jessica Jones. I don’t think this is the kind of thing you want discussed on the phone.” He says slowly. The figure freezes.

“Don’t pretend to know what I want. Or assume what I need.” Her words are sharp, but he has her attention.

“I only mean, this might be the kind of proposal better heard in person. Jones.”

“Proposal?” She scoffs. “Yeah, I’m good, Sparky. Thanks.” She turns away again.

“Jessica Jones, I know what you are.” He says quietly enough that he can’t be sure she heard it through the thick wood and reinforced business plate. It's bulletproof glass he notices absently.

It appears his words hit their desired target though as her frozen form whirls around and storms back towards him flinging the door open and grabbing him by the tailored cuff of his dress shirt.

“Listen here, Alphonse Elric.” She points a finger at him and continues. “I don’t like threats, overt, or implied. You have exactly one minute to convince me that that statement was neither.” She drags him inside and slams the door behind them. The frame shudders, and the bulletproof glass begins to make some sense.

“I wasn’t threatening you, it’s just I could use someone with your… expertise?” He says slowly. Hands up in surrender, wry smile on his face.

“Yeah, I don’t really like being used much either. Forty seconds, Robocop.”

“Wow, and I thought Nat was a puzzle.”

“No. I’m not a puzzle. You just seem to have your foot shoved so far down your throat you could probably shit toenails. Thirty seconds, Tin Man.”

“Okay,” he breathes. They regard each other for a moment in silent challenge. She quirks an eyebrow.

“Really wanna play this way?” She asks. “Twenty seconds Toaster.” Tony concedes, breaking eye contact first.

“Look I have a job for you okay?” He admits. “Toaster?” She ignores the second comment.

“Can’t you buy a fancy PI.”

“I thought I was.” He tries. She looks around her unfinished apartment/office and raises an eyebrow. He sighs. “I need someone…” he searched for a word “special?” He tries. “To do it. Can’t exactly buy that.” She looks at him sceptically.

“Any particular reason?” He looks at her confused.

“Well, they don’t really advertise it when you’re- “

“No.” She scoffs. “I mean a reason you need a freak.”

“Ah,” he says, shifting uncomfortably in her grasp. “The nature of the job.” He says simply. She purses her lips, arms folded like armour across her chest. Finally releasing her grip on his collar.

“Fine” she allows. “Tell me about this super special job”

 

Tony is seated at the kitchen table, idly surveying his diminished view of the (he’d estimate one thousand square foot) apartment. There is a strong scent of chemicals permeating the air. From where he sits he can only really take in the sparsely furnished office area. The walls have been freshly painted, and some places are still covered by tape, and plastic tarps. Un-assembled furnishings are piled precariously in the middle, and there are a few paintings sitting against the only piece of furniture currently intact: A beautiful wooden desk. Probably antique if his eye for exquisite things is correct – and it is if he does say so himself, eyeing the woman standing in his periphery. Well, at least she wasn’t lying about renovations, and remodelling. He looks now towards where Jessica appears to be having a furious conversation in the corner of her kitchen with whomever is on the other side of the headphones. If he really wants to know, all he has to do is double tap the side of his head; just below the ear. There lives one of his favourite inventions, though it’s still in beta. He calls it his Bio-auditory Amplification Device, and boy was this baby B.A.D. He’d actually adapted it with his little protégé in mind. Thinking of Parker snaps him back to the present, and he clears his throat. Jessica turns impatiently and holds out her arms in the universal gesture for ‘what’.

“Miss Jones, if we could talk.”

“Hold on Trish,” she says. “You’re gonna have to give us a moment, Mr. Stark.” She forces the title out of her mouth. “My lovely sister is trying to talk me away from kicking you out. So, I’d suggest you be a little more patient.” She pauses, evidently listening to the little voice in her ear. “Fine Trish, I swear I will.” She turns to give him her full attention - finally. “So Stark, can I offer you a drink. We have water, and… whiskey, and…” She looks searchingly around her kitchen. “Yep, water and whiskey.”

“I’ll just have a bit of your time.” He says.

“Smooth.”

“Are you this charming with all of your potential clients.”

“Only the self-important megalomaniacs who barge into my building with the impression that they have a right to a ‘bit of my time’.”

“Get a lot of those do you?” He smiles tightly.

“You’d be surprised.” She mutters picking at her nails and scowling down at her hands. She looks back up. “Well then, now that you’re here, in my apartment, drinking up my time – if you really don’t want any whiskey -, why don’t you tell me what you came for?”

“I already told you, I need a PI.”

“Yes, we’ve been over this. Normally though, people have something they need investigated by the PI as well.”

“Do you ‘normally’ sit them at your kitchen table, and offer them whiskey as well.”

“‘Well’ I’m not usually renovating, am I. I’d be more than happy to move us back into the office, but the smell is stronger there. Also, normally, I don’t offer the whiskey, I just drink it myself.”

“Seriously? The smell from here is giving me a headache, how do you drink in this.” He says. “Are you living here right now as well?” She nods dismissively, and he balks. “Seriously? You could get cancer, or liver damage, probably both.”

“There are worse ways to die.” She states fingers still working at the soft flesh around her nails. “Now are you going to continue judging my living choices, or are you going to tell me what you want so I can get back to work.” He was stalling. Why was he stalling?

“What I want.” He says looking down at where his own well-manicured hands rest folded in on themselves on the kitchen table. He looks up. “Yeah, actually maybe I will take that whiskey after all.”

 

“Okay. So, you're telling me Spider-Man is actually Spider-Tweenager, and Spidey-Boy’s uncle was murdered, and the case was closed by the police, but now you’ve found new evidence that suggests foul play?”

“Yeah.” He says slowly. The look he gives her is one she recognizes.

“I’m not stupid iRobot. I’m just not a genius billionaire.”

“I wasn’t implying-”

“Sure, you weren’t.” She says matter of fact. “You really sure you want me on this case? You can’t even seem to trust my intellect enough to figure out what you need me to do.”

“I know you’re bright Jones, I just-”

“Oh? You just what?”

“You know something, you’re really defensive.”

“You’re really patronizing.” She counters.

“Fair point,” he concedes. “Do you think you can do it?”

“What find out who killed Benjamin Parker. Then figure out if his death is in any way related to his brother and sister in law - Richard, and Mary Parker’s - deaths?”

“In a nutshell.”

“That depends.” She says.

“On?”

“On what you want me to do when I find the culprit?”

“I want information, not revenge. It’s not like the loss was really mine anyway.”

“No. It’s the kids.” She agrees. “Then I’m a little confused. Why do you need a PI with powers?”

“The nature of the murder. I believe it may be, a little… Out of the ordinary.” She nods. “If that is the case, I need the person making the discoveries to be well acquainted with the consequences of leaking that kind of information to outside parties.” He explains. She studies him, then scoffs.

“You want an insurance policy.” She says. “If I find something weird, I’ll be forced to consider my personal safety, and my own secrets before revealing anything.” She shakes her head. “You’ve looked into me.” She states. “You know I want to be anonymous. You know that I’d never risk exposure like that, even for money.” She can’t help but be impressed. Insulted, a little violated, maybe but impressed none the less. Tony Stark knew what he was doing, and he’s done his homework. Well I guess they don’t call him a genius for nothing. “How did you find out about me though?” She asks. How had she even made her way onto his radar. She’s almost positive that ‘The Tony Stark’ didn’t spend his days looking up Hells Kitchen bandits. He taps the side of his nose.

“A journalist never reveals their sources.” A journalist? She shakes her head. It doesn’t truly matter though. Now he knows, and that’s that.

“Is the information secure though?” She asks.

“As far as I’m aware, but you never know.” He says nonchalantly. Wait a minute.

“I thought you weren’t threatening me.” She glares at him. “What happens if I say no?”

“Jessica.” She flinches. “Miss Jones,” he tries again. “I never meant to imply…” He sighs. “Look if you don’t want the job, that’s fine. I would never leak that kind of information.” Something in his face strikes her as incredibly sincere. She softens marginally.

“Okay then.” She nods. “What if I say yes?” She tries.

“Ah, good question Jones.” He takes a small credit card sized metallic rectangle out of his wallet and pulls the two corners away from each other until they form an 8.5 x 11 magnetic field with the metal corners forming the top left and bottom right corners of the larger shape. He taps the bottom corner with his thumb and the area began to glow a steady pale blue. He scrolls through it like a tablet, though she can’t see from her side of the table what exactly he’s looking at. After a moment, he places the tablet onto the wood, and slides it across the table towards her. Now she can see that on the tablet is a formal contract. She scrolls through the document, her eyes quickly picking up the bolded font with the dollar sign in front. She knows it’s probably pennies to him, but shit that’s a lot of money. She tries to keep her expression neutral, but the look on his face when she glances back up tells her she might be failing.

“This um-” Her voice comes out higher and more delicate than she intends. She clears her throat. “This is a fair offer.” She tries again. “Of course, I’ll have to have my lawyer read it over as well.” She says.

“Of course.” He agrees. “You can feed your corperate shark.”

“My council is more of a corporate toad.” She deadpans.

“Either way.” He shrugs. All of the sensitive details have just been discussed anyways, and knowing Jessica (well, the little he did) he doubts anyone on her legal counsel would be ignorant of her situation. It’s his own name that he is worried about. “Though…” he continues. Regaining her attention. “Due to the sensitive nature of the investigation, I won’t be able to hire you _in homine_. I’ll be using a shell company formally associated with Stark Industries in name alone. Just as a precautionary measure” He clarifies. “Furthermore, Miss Jones, as a contracted worker with SHIELD you will receive living, and transportation expenses for the duration of the investigation, or until you terminate the contract. Do not worry, I’m not abandoning you, Miss Jones-”

“I didn’t imply that you were.”

“You’ll be under SHIELD in name, and name alone. Formally, you’ll be working for me, and occasionally with me on this investigation.”

“Anything else I should know before I send this to my corporate toad?”

“Yes.” He says. “Under SHIELD you will be filed as a potential Avengers trainee.” He pauses as her eyes go wide and she ponders the implications of that statement.

“I thought I would get to stay anonymous.” She says finally.

“First of all: You will be anonymous to the public, which – if I’m not mistaken – is your main concern. Secondly: SHIELD is a cover. It is only what I will have to tell my coworkers to explain you to them, and to the people you will have to interact with throughout the duration of the investigation. This is especially essential considering that the investigation will be unknown by everyone except you, and me, and one of my most trustworthy employees. This includes SHIELD, and… This includes Peter.”

“You mean I’ll be hiding from SHIELD by joining SHIELD?”

“As stipulated by the Wakanda Accords, all of my movements with regards to Avengers resources must be transparent. This is… good. Certainly, in some ways. Accountability, and all that. However, I feel the downsides may potentially outweigh the upsides in this case.”

“Tony Stark” she sings. “Did you make a mistake?”

“I… I don’t know.” His honesty startles her, and the awkward silence stretches for a moment before Tony chuckles darkly to himself. “Anyways” He looks around the apartment, taking in a deep breath, and wincing as the sharp tang of chemicals burns his airway. “The third thing I was going to say is that in order to keep you anonymous.” He catches her eyes, and holds her gaze. “You’ll be moving into the tower.” She blinks blankly at him.

“The Avengers tower?” He nods. She blinks some more. “Why.”

“Part of the trainee initiative.” He says, fist curling on the table.

“I’m not a trainee though.” She replies.

“To everyone but me, you will be.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because, Miss Jones. These people aren’t amateurs. SHIELD isn’t amateur. The culprit definitely isn’t amateur, and if you truly value your secrets more than your life, you can’t be amateur.” She looks at him for a while before saying.

“You really do move fast. Usually, I’ve at least gotten a date before the guy asks me to move in with him.” The statement cuts the tension. Tony breathes out a relieved chuckle, fingers relaxing.

“Well Miss Jones. I’ve been told I can be rather forward.” She smiles, a small, sarcastic, fleeting thing on her face, but a smile none the less. His heart flutters, and he scolds himself for his lack of self-control. Chill Stark. “If you don’t have any further questions I suggest you think about my proposal.”

“One thing Stark. How do I contact you?” He points to the magnetic tablet in her hands.

“The ResCard Unit.” He says. “That’s yours now.”

“What?” He takes a moment to talk her through its operation. Once that’s done, and she’s synced with its manual, and oral activation mechanisms he stands to leave.

“Let me know,” he says. “The sooner the better.” He moves to shake her hand and she returns the gesture. Their hands slide together and a small spark of electricity runs through them. They pull apart quickly. “Until next time Miss Jones.” She nods.

“Mr. Stark,” she says, this time with much less venom in her voice as she walks him to the door. He turns at the threshold. “I am not amateur.” This time it’s his turn to nod before he turns, and lets the door quietly click closed behind him.

“What do you think Trish?” She says putting the headphone back into her ear.

“I think you have a new client.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not supposed to end here, with this (in my defence fairly entertaining) exposition dump. They just kept talking and talking though. I don’t know what I was supposed to do! Deny them their voice? No, I let my babies speak. Next Chapter should kind of an inverse, but much less exposition, and much more plot driven. If you haven’t guessed already I’m really dialogue. There’s just something about the way Jessica talks you know? Plus, she uses swears, and I don’t (like ever) so it’s really fun to just let her loose.  
> Comments are always appreciated. Constructive criticism is ENCOURAGED. I don’t have a beta though, so if it’s about grammar just lmk and I’ll get on that as fast as I can. Finally: I hope you enjoyed this. If you want more, I update on Wednesdays. Happy Reading, and Be Good to People. To Google and BEYOND!


	4. Going Anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out with the old, into the Avengers tower... Say hello to some new faces!

“So, are you gonna send the paperwork to Froggy?” Trish asks. She’s in the Hells Kitchen apartment helping Jessica pack.

“I don’t know.” She says. “I don’t think so.” Jessica carefully folds three identical tank tops and places them in the duffle bag.

“Why not? He said he’d help if you ever needed it.”

“One: He works with Hogarth. Two, I barely know him, he’s loyal to different people,” Jessica scrunches her nose. Then scoffs.

“Fair enough.” Trish folds four identical, well-worn t-shirts into the same duffle. Peeking up she sees Jessica frowning at the pile of laundry. “What? Finally appalled by your own fashion sense. I don’t think there’s a single article of clothing with any actual colour on it.” Jessica displays a tank top. “No almost army green doesn’t count… Jess, what is it?”

“What the hell am I doing Trish?”

“You’re being responsible for a change, and taking a job.”

“Am I though?”

“What does that mean?” Trish pauses, and drops the pair of torn jeans she was folding. “Jess.”

“Nothing.” She gives a small smile. It’s one of the few given freely and without malice. “The clothes are good for blending in.” She grabs the dark jeans from her sisters’ fingers. “All packed up then.”

“So, what now? You just call The Tony Stark?”

“No, I use this.” She pulls the ResCard from her back pocket and places it on her cellphone, the screen flashes to an audio AI.

“What can I help you with?” Says a disembodied vaguely British woman.

“Posh.” Mutters Trish.

“Voice pattern rejected.” Calls the phone from across the bed. Jessica snickers.

“Tell the Tinker Toy I’m in. With conditions.” Jessica modifies.

“Voice pattern recognized. I’m sorry ‘Jessica Jones’ but I can not find the contact ‘Tinker Toy’. Please try again.” Jessica rolls her eyes.

“Send a message to Tony Stark, that I’m in with some amendments to the contract.”

“Recipient recognized. Message sending.” The room goes quiet for a while.

“Well that was anticlimactic-” Trish was cut off by the electronic Brit.

“Mr. Stark says he will send a car promptly. Expect to be picked up within the hour.” She relayed. “Can I help you with anything else Miss Jones?” Jessica doesn’t respond, she just removes the sleek card from her phone screen and watches the device return to black.

“He doesn’t mess around,” Trish says. “It’s only been like three days since you guys met.”

“Four.” Corrects Jessica.”

“Still, are you sure you don’t want a lawyer to look at that contract?”

“Yes Mom, I’m sure,” Jessica says. Trish rolls her eyes. “I can read you know.” Jessica defends.

“I know. Just… Be safe okay? He may be a famous defender of humanity, but we don’t actually know him.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.”

“Jessica.” Their eyes meet. “Try to let yourself be happy.”

“How do you suggest I do that.”

“I don’t know. Try a hobby. Read some books. Get into extreme sports.”

“Sounds like so much fun.” Jessica deadpans.

“The guy’s loaded. I’m sure he can arrange it.”

“I’ll try to work it into my contract,” Jessica smirks. Trish just raises her eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll try to have fun.” She puts her hands up in surrender.

“Don’t forget about the bet,” Trish warns.

“You wouldn’t let me.” She continues. “You act like I’m moving across the world. I’m not. We’ll still talk and stuff.”

“I know.” She sighs. It’s just… last time you were that far away from me you weren’t exactly there consensually. Though you could find worse accommodations to be kidnapped into.” Trish provides.

Jessica shakes her head. Outside the window a car pulls up, followed by an ominous vibration in the ResCard.

“That was not an hour.” Jessica grumbles, lifting her duffle bag over her shoulder and making her way out of the apartment.

“And that is not a car.” Trish gawks at the sleek silver machine idling on the side of the road. A well-kept man in a black suite waits beside the passenger door of the AudiR8.

“Miss Jones.” He nods to her, and with the press of a button the passenger door swings upwards. “After you.” He gestures her inside. Jessica just gawks at it, then at her sister who is currently gawking at the car, then she turns her attention back to the obvious machine.

“This is not a car,” Trish says to the man. He grimaces.

“Mr. Stark requested it for Jessica’s journey.”

“Did he now. And here I thought we were trying to keep a low profile.” Jessica says. The man glances awkwardly at Trish before schooling his features. Huh... Thinks Jessica. Is this the trusted staff member?

“He would appreciate if we did not talk about business in front of uninvolved parties.” The man says. This is. Jessica concludes.

“Oh, you mean he doesn’t want us to talk about our super-secret murder investigation in front of my sister?” At this, he cringes.

“Yes, that is what he would prefer.” Says the man who at this point has dropped his arm.

“Well if he wants me to do something, next time he should come himself to pick me up in his ridiculously ostentatious waste of money.” Jessica gestures to the vehicle before bidding her sister a brief farewell and slipping ambivalently into the passenger seat.

“Of course, Miss Jones.” He says mostly to himself. “Miss Walker.” He nods his head towards her before pressing the button to lower the passenger door.

“Hey, Jess.” She says to her sisters slowly disappearing figure. “Bet’s still on!” Jessica flips her a thumbs up in acknowledgement, then seems to change her mind and switches to her middle finger. Trish just laughs and shakes her head.

 

Inside the car, Jessica has her headphones in and hood up.

“Miss Jones, my name is Happy, just let me know if you need anything.” Says the man staring resolutely forward while navigating the midday traffic in New York.

“Is that some weird Snow-White shit you and your boss are into, or is that your actual name?”

“That’s my name.”

“No, that’s a tragedy.” She snickers lowering the volume on her headphones. “Anyways, you look more like a Grumpy, or maybe an Anxious to me.”

“I’m not anxious.” He says. “I’m responsible. It’s different.”

“I can feel your ulcers forming.” She retorts. “Tell me, does the employee package over at Stark Estate cover therapy?”

“Yeah, well. It’s difficult to be responsible when everyone around you insists on being reckless, and juvenile.”

“Oh, juvenile. That’s a good word. Are you talking about your boss?” Happy blanches. “Oh, you need a better poker face Grumpy.” Jessica chuckles.

“It’s Happy.” He grits out through his teeth.

“Whatever Cranky. Tell me when we’re there.” Jessica turns the volume on her headphones back up to just below deafening. A quiet echo of the [song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TvqGu8I47dU)she’s listening to ekes out into the car and can be heard over the quiet hum of the R8 engine. She sinks into the seat and resolves herself to waiting out the drive with her eyes closed, and he mouth shut.

 

“Well Grumpy, this is certainly something,” Jessica says as she glides up the floors to her new private suite in the Avengers Tower.

“You know you can just call me Hogan, if Happy is too ‘ridiculous’ for you.”

“I didn’t say it was ridiculous… Just contradictory.” She shrugged. “Plus, Grumpy is way more fun.”

“Right.” He sighs. The elevator dings open on her floor and he ushers her inside. “So, this is where you’ll be staying.” He gestures to the lavish furnishings of a gigantic living room and dining area. An open concept kitchen is separated from the rest of the space by a marble island. To the far left and right are hallways leading to what Jessica can only assume are the bedroom suites. Looks like she has roommates. Her lips thin. “Over this way will be your suite.” He leads her to the hallway on the right which splits off to the right and left. He leads her right again. “I expect you’ll be comfortable by yourself until Mr. Stark arrives.” He says ushering her into the giant suite.

“Yep, I expect I’ll be fine.” She confirms eyeing the minibar in the corner, and striding over.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Happy turns to leave.

“Hi-ho.” Jessica salutes, walking backwards, before turning to face the alcohol cabinet again. Happy just shakes his head, and leaves the room with an audible click as the door closes behind him. “Guess I’m waiting for the genius then.” She mumbles under her breath, taking a quick chug of a burning liquid she gets the feeling she should be appreciating more. She looks around the room before her eyes land on a stack of papers placed neatly on her desk. “At least I won’t be bored.”

 

“Come in!” Jessica shouts. She’s lounging on the massive, four poster bed looking over a stack of papers.

“I see you found the suggested reading I left for you.” Tony enters the room and glances around. To the far right is an open office, and reading area with massive bookshelves dominating the wall behind it. The antique wooden desk Jessica had insisted be shipped from her tiny apartment is now devoid of said reading materials. Further up is a living area that bleeds into the centre of the room, with a minibar and mini-fridge at the far wall. On the other side of the room is the door to what Tony knows is a lavish bathroom, with a rainfall shower, and separate jacuzzi. In most rooms, the piece de resistance would be the stunning view of the city that dominates the far wall of the room. However, all Tony can focus on is the tiny fireball of a woman laying on her stomach in the centre of the massive bed. She is chewing on a pencil and occasionally making markings on the papers in her hand. He walks up to the bed. “How do you like the room.”

“It’s big.” She says, still not facing him.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Yeah, I suppose it is.” She turns and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m just here to give you the grand tour.”

“Awe, but Mopey did such a good job.” She says.

“Mopey?”

“Thick dude, cropped hair, kind of dense and potentially suicidal, but mostly harmless.”

“You mean Happy?”

“Same difference.” She sits up fully, cross-legged in the middle of the bed. “You really need to get him a prescription for Xanax or something. He’s really skittish.”

“Yeah, alien invasions, cargo plane hijackings, and Spider-Man maintenance will do that to a man.”

“Wait, Dopey is on babysitting duty? That’s rich.” Tony cringes.

“Don’t tell him I told you that.” He says.

“Too late now… Was there a dwarf called Nanny in the original movie?” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, I’m using it.”

“You and your nicknames.”

“What can I say, it’s a gift.”

“Indeed.” He rolls his eyes, and holds out an elbow. “So, a tour? Then usually when introducing a new potential member, we like to have dinner all together. Well, at least all of the people on the floor. I’ll introduce you around? Hey, wait, Jessica-” But she already strides ahead of him.

“I don’t need a tour, but I could do with dinner.” She calls from the other side of the room. He just shakes his head and follows her out.

Jessica walks into the common area to discover that it’s become significantly more populated in the time she’s been in her bedroom. How long was she in there? Four hours? No wonder she’s irritable, the alcohol must have worn off by now. She feels a warm hand touch the small of her back and jumps.

“Woah.” Tony raises his hands.

“Don’t do that.” She grits through her teeth.

“Touch you or surprise you?” He says only half joking.

“All of the above, Megatron.” She spits.

“And we’re back to name calling I see.” He sighs.

“Never stopped.” She smiles humorlessly.

“How’s making new friends coming along Tony?” A new voice cuts into the tension, and Jessica and Tony both turn to face its source.

“Very well as usual Nat. Thank you.” He replies with a teasing lilt.

“Ah, it’s that excellent personality isn’t it.” She teases back. “Natasha Romanov, but you can call me Nat, everyone does.” She holds her hand out to Jessica.

“Jessica Jones.” She shakes Natasha’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” And when the words come unbidden out of her mouth, she finds she actually means them.

“Now that’s a proper hero name.” She comments. “You know Tony, charisma isn’t a replacement for basic human decency.” Natasha continues welcoming Jessica farther into the room where everyone’s now turned to see what’s going on. Natasha offers Jessica her arm, and Jessica takes it.

“What?” Tony watches the interaction wide-eyed.

“You know her rarely comes down to this floor to deign us plebeians with his almighty presence.” Natasha gossips, turning to face Tony and daring him to challenge her. After a moment he just raises his arms in surrender. Natasha smirks and turns back conspiratorially to address Jessica once more. “On with the tour. She points to the kitchen “That’s Vision.” The red hero looks up from the pot he’s working on to offer a friendly smile and a wave. Jessica nods in acknowledgement. Natasha points back the way she came. “Vison lives on the other side of your hallway. He used to live on mine, and Wanda’s side, but we had a phasing issue so…”

“Phasing issue-?”

“That’s Steve Rodgers.” She points to a recognizable figure lounging on the couch with a controller in his hands. “You probably know him as Captain America though. Most people do. And that man beside him is Bucky Barnes.” She points now to the surlier man also holding a video-game controller. “You may know him as the Winter Soldier… Or not at all.” Natasha shrugs.

“I’ll take not at all for $100,” says Jessica.

“Yeah, he was basically defrosted around the same time as Cap over there so… Video-games are really big right now for them. Also” she leans in to whisper conspiratorially. “I’m pretty sure each other are a big thing for them, but they’re denser than cement so,” she shrugs. “Anyways, Bucky does not live on this floor, but you will probably see him whenever Cap’s around.” At this point, a young woman emerges from the hallway on the left. Striding across the room to stand in front of Jessica. “This is Wanda Maximoff.”

“Hi.” Wanda sticks out her hand, and Jessica shakes it.

“Scarlet Witch,” Jessica says in recognition. Wanda winces.

“Yeah, just Wanda is fine.”

“Maxi,” Natasha pulls away from Jessica to wrap her arm around the younger woman, kissing her temple. “This is Jessica Jones. Can I call you Jess?” She says turning back. Jessica just nods her head.

“So, you two are a thing.” Jessica says like it’s a realization. “Huh.”

“Something wrong with that?” Natasha cocks her head, expression cooling fractionally.

“No nothing, it’s just.” Jessica looks between them, and finally settles on Natasha. “I just thought you and the green guy…” Jessica feels like she sees Natasha’s smile falter momentarily, but the expression is gone so fast Jessica believes she may have imagined it.

“Banner and I were just friends.” She says.

“Were?” Jessica presses.

“Well, he’s not really around right now,” Natasha says. Wanda glances up at Natasha, contemplating her profile before pressing a quick peck to her cheek.

“I’m going to help Vision with dinner. Nice to meet you Jessica.” Wanda says before slipping from Natasha grasp.

“Why don’t I finish the tour,” Tony offers. Sidling up next to the two women from where he was watching the scene with crossed arms, and furrowed brow.

“Not much left,” Natasha says, but she shrugs and heads off to the two men on the couch.

“So,” Tony says, shifting Jessica’s attention. “Anything in particular you want to see?”

“Where do you live, when you’re here?”

“Well, I live on the higher floors.”

“Floors? As in plural?” Jessica says taking a seat at a smaller sitting area separated from the main entertainment system. Tony just shrugs.

“Most of us – except for Wanda – don’t really live here all that often.” He says sitting on the small couch adjacent to hers. “We have missions, international business, most of us have actual homes and aren’t even permanent residents. Actually, the only reason Nat’s here right now is that she’s training a new potential recruit.” He gives Jessica a meaningful glance.

“Me? She’s here for me?” Jessica says glancing at Natasha who’s migrated to the kitchen.

“Well that, and Wanda.” Tony rolls his eyes. Jessica can’t identify the weird fluttery feeling that creeps up on her while watching Natasha and Wanda interact.

“Is that an emotion I see.” Tony mocks horrified. “I didn’t know you came with other expressions.” He continues. She glares at him, realizing that her face had been crumpled in confusion.

“You’re awfully smug for a man who’s not wearing his super-suit.” Jessica says cracking her knuckles menacingly.

“You’re about as scary as a kitten.” Tony retorts.

“Try your luck WALL-E.” Jessica glares.

“Dinner is ready.” Calls a soothing British voice form the kitchen.

“Looks like we’re out of time.” Tony says entirely unrepentant.

 

After dinner Tony and Jessica are in her room.

“So, here’s your schedule.” He says handing back her ResCard. “Tomorrow morning you’ll train with Happy. Then you’ll meet Vision for breakfast. After that you’ll meet with Nat. She’s got you for the afternoon as well. Then when training is done you’ll head upstairs with Happy so you can get started on the case. That’ll definitely take you to dinner. You don’t have to eat with everyone like we did today. Actually, that’s quite unusual and if you head to the common area you’ll probably only find Vision and Wanda. They have a weird avuncular relationship thing happening. I don’t question it. Anyways, after that your time is yours. If you decide to work on the case your ResCard should get you upstairs access if you need to access the Data up there. Otherwise do what you want I guess.”

“So, this is my daily schedule then?”

“Everyday but Sunday.” Tony confirms. “Well, Saturday you don’t train, but you will be expected to work on the case.” He clarifies

“Sounds reasonable.” She agrees.

“Good, any questions?”

“Just one.” She says.

“Okay?”

“When do I meet the kid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcement: There won't be an update next Wednesdays... Midterms :/ sorry! Might have an update a little later in the week, otherwise "I Walk Alone" will be back on the 22/23rd (time zones SORRY!)
> 
> THIS CHAPTER WAS LONG! I like conversations okay? I think dialogue is really fun to read so I write a lot of it. Sorry for exposition, I tried to do it interestingly but… Also, I hope none of the relationships came as a surprise (I did tag them XD… I think…). We meet Lil Baby Parker next chapter! Yay… Right? Anyways the real investigation finally begins.  
> Sorry for mistakes… No beta reader so if you find any grammatical quandaries just lmk and I’ll get to it asap. Comments are always appreciated. Constructive criticism is ENCOURAGED. As always: Happy Reading, and Be Good to People.


	5. Aquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We Meet lil' baby Parker.

“Natasha Romanov is a beast,” Jessica Jones says, icing her thighs in Tony’s private office.

“Well, she’s been called worse.”

“Seriously. Her stamina… And how does she look so good doing it.” Jessica grumbles fingering at her messy hair, subtly indented from where she was forced to tie it up, and strands falling about her face. She shakes her head. “Bitch.”

“Sounds about right.” Tony murmurs knowingly.

“So, I’m meeting the kid then?”

“Yeah you’re meeting the kid. He’ll probably be able to give you a better sense of what his uncle was like than those papers I gave you. He’ll be getting out of school in an hour.”

“Wait, we’re meeting him at his high school?” Jessica looks down at her clothes. As per usual she’s wearing a tanktop, but has replaced her ripped jeans with leggings, and her leather jacket with a maroon workout sweater that Wanda had been nice enough to lend her.

“Yeah, we’re not meeting him. You’re meeting him. I don’t do high school, too much… children, and puberty, and hormones, and depressing educational system. So, good luck. Happy will be waiting for you when you’re ready.” He waves her away. She glares daggers at him as she makes her way out of his office, slopping the melted ice packs on his desk to Tony’s utter displeasure.

 

“I cannot believe this” Jessica says to her self as she lounges unceremoniously in the back of the car. One leg planted firmly on the back of the driver’s seat, and sunglasses perched precariously on her head, she takes a swig from the flask in her half-gloved hand and tries probably for the third time to turn the vehicle around. “Hey Grumpy, how much for you to just pretend I met the kid. Or maybe you can have him meet us at his house or something?”

“Miss Jones, I cannot very well abandon a child in good faith.”

“Is it because I call you Grumpy?” She tries.

“Miss Jones, it’s a high school.”

“I know, and the fact that you are driving me to one without hesitation leads me to believe that I have signed on into unsafe work conditions. I would like to speak to HR about negligible work place practises, and employee mistreatment.”

“Hello this is HR” Happy says from the front seat. “I understand you have some concerns about your workplace safety? Please know they have been received, and we are working to address them to the best of our abilities.” He leans over and reaches into the glove compartment; one hand on the wheel he pulls out a small black cylinder, tossing it to Jessica before he straightens himself out to refocus on the road ahead.

“What’s this?” She catches the cylinder. She reads the label and gapes.

“In case you run into any teenage girls.” He says, looking into the rear-view mirror at her reaction. The side of Jessica’s lip twitches up. “Why Miss Jones. Is that a smile I see?”

“I can’t pepper spray children. Can I?” She deflects, shaking her head as they pull up to a prisonlike building with the most generic suburban school name and mascot on the front. Actually, forget you heard that and I promise I won’t name you in the trial.” The car rolls to a stop and Jessica hops out of the vehicle, slamming the door and indicating for Happy to wind down the passenger window. She leans in. “Listen, if you don’t see me in fifteen, send in the troops.” She mock salutes him before tossing him her flask and donning her sunglasses once more.

 

The inside of the high school is bleak and grey, like most high schools Jessica assumes. She saunters down the hallway scattering the few end-of-day stragglers in her wake. Consulting her RES pad, she pulls up a map of the school with a little red dot moving along the hallways, and a little green dot in a far room at the end of one of the identical bleak hallways.

“What kind of kid does debate club voluntarily.” She says watching her red dot move closer to Parkers green. She rolls her eyes before knocking on the door. A ¿Hispanic? teen opens the door and stares blankly up at Jessica, effectively blocking the doorway.

“I’m looking for Peter Parker.” She says, tilting her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose to stare imposingly at him over their rim.

“Um.” He fumbles before turning and calling into the room. “Parker, it’s for you.”

“What?” Calls a small voice from inside. Jessica raises her eyebrow.

“You gonna let me in or am I going to stand just outside the threshold until Parker learns basic English?” The teen frowns, but steps aside.

“You don’t seem particularly nice.” He says.

“Well, I’m not paid to be nice so…” The shrugs down at him before sauntering into the gymnasium type room that was currently outfitted for mock debate. Once in the room she’s greeted by a very confused teacher, and a group of curious students. One of whom is slowly rising out of his seat. “Peter Parker, I assume?”

“Um… Yeah?”

“Stark sent me.” She says, trusting the kid’s curiosity to make sure he’s following as she swiftly turns on her heel. Nodding to the teacher she saunters out of the room to finally begin the investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short…. I’m sorry it’s so short… It was supposed to be longer, but I just finished watching the newest season and. Damnit…. We’re either gonna have to collectively pretend that it never happened (erase cannon from history) or I might need to REALLY Re-Write… Or Idk… IDK how to fix this literary mess. Y do source material betray me!!!!???? ARGH! Alright… We’ll see. We’ll….. IDK. IDK what I’m gonna do. I’ll keep y’all posted!  
> I am VERY OPEN to constructive criticism and suggestions. I will be updating, so tune in then for more! Happy Reading, and Be Good to People.


	6. Shush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little chat with baby spider.

 

His excitement is palpable.

“Really? Mr. Stark sent you?”

It’s really annoying.

“Are you an Avenger too? Miss….”

“Just call me Jessica.” She says.

“Okay Jessica, you’re an Avenger?”

“I’m a business associate.”

“Mr. Stark has super-associates?”

“‘Mr. Stark runs a multinational, trillion-dollar conglomerate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has his own planet.” She stops abruptly, watching him zoom past, then pivot back to stand with her. “They told me you were smart. Please tell me they weren’t exaggerating, because I really don’t have time to deal with a dumb kid.”

“I’m really smart at like, school things. I’m just not so great at – you know – social interaction?” He’s looking at her so earnestly, and something foreign gleams in his eyes.

“Social interaction is part of ‘school things’.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He says looking down. “But you’re really pretty, so I bet it was easy for you to be popular and stuff.” He glances back up at her with a slightly sad smile, she grimaces.

“Right.” She says, beginning to walk once again. The gleam in his eyes brightening.

“So, what does Mr. Stark want? You know I’m practically an Avenger myself, right? I guess you could say I’m also kinds Mr. Starks super-associate.” He smiles a giddy little smile, and hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder. The little gleam begins to make sense. It’s admiration. He hero-worships Stark, and by extension her.

They reach the car and she slides deftly into the back.

“Hi Happy!” He calls as he slides into the other side. A tiny sliver of guilt rears it’s entirely unwanted head. She tries to beat it back down. She can lie to this child, she can. “So, are we going on a mission together or something?” He’s facing Jessica again, and his face is just so earnest, and full of admiration, and trust, and ugh. No! She has to be objective. Guilt always gets her in trouble. I’m not a hero, I’m not a hero, I’m not a hero. She tries chanting in her own mind. “Jessica?” Great, now he’s concerned, like genuinely, and: Oh Fine. She says, immediately regretting her choices.

“Mopey, change of plans.” She says, immediately regretting her choices.

 

“Um… Jessica? You know I’m a minor right?”

“Don’t remind me.” They’re seated in a dimly lit bar, all dingy lights, and cracked leather upholstery. It smells like a strange mix of body fluid, ferment, and bad decisions. A hint of turpentine, and it’d smell like home. The passing thought should be mildly concerning, but she’s nursing her fourth tumbler of amber fuzzy-juice, and her brain is having a difficult time focusing on things that aren’t: Why do I now have a child? Oh right. Stark. Stark, Stark Stark. “Staaaaark.”

“Um, Jessica? Maybe that’s enough. Have you seen this kinda old movie: Good Will Hunting? Anyways, there’s a bar scene and the one dude-”

“Look kid. I haven’t been able to get this drunk in a really long time, let me have this, yeah?” Why did she need to get this drunk again? This might have been a mistake. She admits to herself. No. No, I had to do this because I’m about to breach the contract on my first real day of work… Shit.

“Okay.” He swivels his chair absently, as she downs the rest of the glass.

“Did Stark tell you what he’s working on, or did he just send me to blindside you?”

“Um…”

“Stop saying ‘um’ kid.”

“Oh, ah. Sorry. No.” He fires out. She just squints at him. “I mean. Sorry. I mean he didn’t tell me he was sending you.”

“S’what I figured. Shit. Shiiiiit.” That’s a nice word. Wait, no it isn’t. Ew. “Shiiiit.” She tries again. “Ew. No.”

“Jessica?”

“Right. Gonna tell you a secret, kid.”

“My- my name’s Peter. Not Kid.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, kid, I know. Can you let the grownup breach her legal agreement now?”

“What?” She nods her head in agreement, then squeezes her eyes shut to try and recollect her thoughts. Maybe she overdid it with the fourth glass. She shakes her head at herself. Nope, no, no-no. Bad idea. Everything goes kind of whirly for a second.

“Your Uncle Benjamin?” She says when she opens her eyes. Head marginally clearer, and gaze locked onto Peters.

“My Uncle Ben?” He stutters out. “What would Mr. Stark want with… Uncle Ben?”

“S’what-” She clears her throat, and squeezes her eyes shut again. “It’s what I’ve been contracted to figure out.” She says. “May be something, big. May be nothing at all.” When she opens them his Peter’s face has gone pale, and he is gripping the bar with white-knuckled force. She sees little fissures in the cheap wood and gently pries one of his fingers off to reveal a perfect Peter-sized-finger indentation.

“But it’s a closed-case. The police said there was no sign of foul play.”

“Listen, Peter – and I can say this from personal experience. The police are idiots. Especially when it comes to.” She pauses, searching for the right word. “Abnormal situations.” She says, running her hand over the fresh indents on the bar.

“So-” and now it’s his turn to clear his throat. “So, Mr. Stark wants me to help him look into…”

“Um. No.”

“No?”

“Yeah.” It occurs to her that her body is already metabolizing the alcohol. Oh well. She thinks. Hard part’s over anyway. “He uh. He kind of had me sign a contract that says I cannot tell you what I just told you.”

“Oh.” Some of the colour has returned to his face.

“So, if you want to keep it a secret?”

“You mean from Mr. Stark.” And he’s pale again. This whole hero worship thing is really exhausting.

“Look kid. I’m supposed to take you back to the stupid tower anyways. We can just figure it out then.”

“Um. Miss Jones-”

“You were doing so well.”

“Jessica?”

“What, kid?”

“Thank you.” He says. She glowers at him contemplatively before sliding off the barstool and dropping a handful of moist crumpled bills on the counter.

“See ya Giang.” She calls to the lanky Vietnamese man behind the bar.

“I hope not Jones.” He calls back, picking up the money with a napkin, and a resigned sigh.

 

She slips on her sunglasses as she settles herself into the passenger seat. “Get in, kid.”

“Hey Jessica, could you please not call me kid?” He asks again.

“You are a kid.”

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve been trying to get Mr. Stark to call me Peter, and I just feel like if you call me 'kid' too then he’ll never call me Peter, and if you’re his associate, then he probably respects you too-” She cuts him off with a sharp laugh.

“Look kid. I’ll call you Peter when you’re a thirty-year-old math professor, or some sort of a saint. Till then, I doubt Tinker Tanner cares what I have to say about anything that isn’t this case.” Jessica looks at Happy who’s giving the road a constipated sort of look, she coming to recognize a ‘default-Happy-Hogan” and sighs. “Hey, Stuffy. She tosses the mace at him, surprised when he catches it. “Take us to Metal Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else watch ‘Infinity War’?
> 
> Short Chapter, I know. SORRY! It just felt weird to add it to the next chapter. Too disjointed.
> 
> Back to 'Infinity War' though: Who wants to sign a petition for Disney to create a support group for fans…. Seriously WTF! (Gah! SUCH A GOOD MOVIE!!!!!!)
> 
> ANYWAYS…: We’re back! Will update bi-weekly; Wednesdays (or Thursdays depending on your time zone :/). Shout out to anyone who got the reference in there. I usually leave one in every chapter… Maybe I’ll do a bonus chapter or writing request for someone who gets them all by the time the fic ends? IDEAS-IDEAS!  
> Anyways. Constructive criticism always appreciated XD. Happy Reading, and Be Good to People!!!!!


	7. Hunches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica annoys Tony. Plotting happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many cusses can you use before you're obligated to change the tags?

Jessica has been watching Tony pace his office for a while now. “Can you calm down Mr. Robot? You’re giving me whiplash.”

“Why don’t you try thinking about how I feel right now?” Tony retorts cooly.

“I didn’t think the Tinman had feelings. Did you find your heart?”

“The Tinman had a heart all along,” Peter mumbles, too quietly to be considered. He’s slouched low on a seat in Tony’s office. This is the highest in the tower that he’s ever been, and he wishes that the dread wasn’t clouding out his excitement.

“This man is flesh and blood and a little bit of anger right now Jones,” Tony informs. Finally ceasing the relentless pacing as he rounds the desk to stand in front of the loveseat Jessica’s currently sprawled along. Arms crossed on her chest. She leans subtly away from him as he stalks towards her. “Are you an idiot?” He inquires. She balks, but before she can come up with a retort he presses in again. “I know we can’t all be -what did you call me? Genius billionaires, Jones. I would’ve thought you’d've had more common sense though. I mean it’s supposed to be common. Why does it evade so many?” At this, he turns to face Happy, who up until this point had wisely been hiding by the entrance. Stoically ignoring the entire exchange.

“Sir?” Happy’s eyes won’t quite reach Tony’s own. Instead, they land somewhere near his forehead.

“What part of ‘Stay on top of her’-”

“Hey!” Jessica protests.

“- didn’t you understand, Happy?” Tony ignores her outburst.

“I. Sir I did. I was trying to give her room to work or-”

“‘Room to work?’” Tony scoffs. “You drove her, -and a minor- to a bar!” He wipes both of his hands down his face. “Common sense people. Come on!” He just shakes his head. Walking around his desk he drops heavily into his seat. “Okay. It’s done. He knows. Now what? You better have some idea of what you’re doing Jones.”

“Of course, I know what I’m doing. I’m an alcoholic, not an idiot.” She looks directly at him as she takes a swig from the silver flask that has somehow materialized in her hand.

“It’s not you I’m worried about Jones.” Tony’s eyes flash briefly to Peter.

“Mr. Stark, sir, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” Peter tries.

“I think I have plenty of evidence to the contrary, Kid.” Tony counters. Peter glares openly at Jessica who sighs, and rolls her eyes.

“I think the kid.” She pauses. “Peter can take care of himself just fine. Give him a chance to screw up first Stark.” She concludes. The look of gratitude he gives her is somewhat worrying in its intensity. “Anyways she continues. I know where I want to start.”

 

It’s a while later when Tony decides to wrap up the meeting. “Happy take Peter home. Tell May something about job opportunities, or the truth since that seems to work so well.” He shrugs in obvious mock nonchalance. Laughing a little bit to himself as Happy and Peter shudder. They exit together leaving him alone with Jessica who as of the moment has made no move to leave her comfortable perch on his loveseat. Her small body is bent forwards, elbows on denim-clad knees. She’s holding a paper in her right hand. Slim fingers exposed in her fingerless leather gloves. He wonders absently why she wears them. How soft her palms might feel if she ever took them off. How those fingertips might feel against his own.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” She says without looking away from the paper in her hands.

“Take a Xanax. It’ll last longer.” He retorts, eyeing the silver flask in her left hand.

“It won’t.” She says in a voice so quiet he’s sure she didn’t mean for him to hear. He had though, and he doesn’t know what to do because it makes him wonder (not for the first time) if there’s something deeper to her. Deeper then even what hides behind her bravado, deeper than those fleeting glimpses of heroism and humanity. Deeper than the scared woman he saw at the event he hosted so many months ago. It makes him wonder if she sometimes thinks about him the way he’s thinking about her right now. He wants to ask her if she wonders how soft his hands are?  How their fingertips would feel if they met in a gentle caress? How his palms might slot against her skin? Tony looks down at his own hands, shaking the thought away before he says something stupid. Tony Stark doesn’t do stupid. So, he buries the fuzzy warmth that seems to blossom in his gut whenever she’s present and goes with something safe…ish.

“Did you need something, or are you just sitting here to annoy me?”

“The second one,” she says still staring intently at the page.

“Can you work on whatever this is in your own room? I’m sure I provided a nice one.”

“I’m memorizing something, dumbass. Give me a second and I’ll be out of your circuits.”

“Right,” Tony says. Flopping down in his desk chair, and putting an enormous effort into ignoring the woman sitting across from him. To her credit, she does seem to be actually trying to memorize something. After a quiet moment, Tony breaks the silence. “What are you memorizing?”

“Safe codes, and pin numbers.”

“The ones the kid gave you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you have to do that in here?” He asks. Stretching out the ‘and’ for added surliness.

“No.” She replies.

“Okay then… Annoying accomplished. Why are you still here?”

“Because it still seems to bother you.” She says. A small smirk forming on her lips. Tony balks. How one tiny woman can be such a hassle, Tony begins to ask himself if it’s even worth it. He can take the loss and find another PI. What was the name of that blind lawyer?

“You rub me the wrong way Jones.” He says. Shaking his head and standing to leave, and give her the privacy she refuses to offer him.

“I wouldn’t rub you with a ten-foot rod Stark.”

“That a challenge Jones?”

“No that’s a fucking promise Wall-,” Jessica says, before standing up and making her own way out the door. Leaving Stark confused, and annoyed.

“That went well Sir.” Says a mildly robotic voice.

“Thank you, Friday.” He huffs through gritted teeth.

 

 

“Hey Dopey.” Jessica greets as she slides into the car the next morning.

“Good morning.” Happy pulls into the road. “Where are we going?”

“McDonald's. I’m hungry.”

“Doesn’t Nat feed you?” He says, referencing the rigorous training that has begrudgingly become another part of Jessica’s daily routine.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m eating the fiber-nutrient-green-macro vomit she keeps trying to force on me.” She says. “There are laws against that kind of cruel and unusual punishment. It’s in the constitution. I don’t care what they feed people in Russia, but this is America, and I refuse to drink -what did she call it? - spirulina. Fuck that shit. If your breakfast doesn’t directly contribute to diabetes, you’re not doing it right.” She finishes.

“Well, it’s obvious you’ve been waiting to talk about that for a while.” Mumbles Happy.

“That’s for God-damned sure.” She continues. “I mean there’s only so long a person can withstand torture before they should report it. Hey Frumpy,” Happy glances nervously at his reflection, reassuring himself that he is indeed clean pressed, and shaven. “Do you think that counts as domestic abuse, or professional harassment.”

“Doesn’t Mr. Stark pay you- You know what never mind. Where to after we increase your cholesterol.”

“Oh. Westgrove.”

“What?”

“We need to go to Westgrove Military Medical Research Facility.”

“Where?”

“Westgrove Military- Here.” She taps the address into the GPS in the center console.

“Why?”

“Because Mr. Monosyllables. It’s where our dearly-departed Uncle Ben used to work… And I have a hunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s all make an agreement, yes? I promise to stop making promises I can’t keep. You promise to forgive this incredibly late update.  
> Do I have valid reasons for not uploading? Yes. Does that change the outcome? No. I still broke a promise with you guys. I’m sorry! I can’t promise this will update weekly, or bi-weekly for that matter. What I can do is promise I won’t abandon the fic. Be patient with me and I promise I’ll finish the story!  
> Thank anyone who’s still reading this. Feel free to leave questions and comments. Happy Reading, and Be Good to People!!


	8. Break & Enter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly Jessica. A little Happy, and Peter. Mostly B&E.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO! I’m here with more words, for your viewing pleasure… This chapter is mostly Jessica, but we’ll see some JessicaXTony probably in the next chapter.  
> No Beta, so if you see something egregiously wrong: Do not hesitate to let me know so I can fix it! As always I approve of constructive criticism… Happy Reading.

“Stop here Twitchy,” Jessica says.

“Why, we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Happy replies, but obliges her request anyway.

“Almost the middle of nowhere,” Jessica says. mouth half full. She pulls down the passenger vanity mirror and drags a duffle bag from the backseat of the car into her lap, stuffing the rest of the McMuffin into her mouth to free up her hands. “Okay, what have we got.” She Pulls out a contact case, and black beanie.

“What’s that for?” Happy asks. He’s looking into the dense treeline of the area Jessica’s led them too.

“Precaution,” Jessica replies, blinking her contacts in, and tucking flyaway strands underneath thick, woollen fabric. “Oh, this is yours.” She says, and hands Happy his cellphone.

“When did you- How?”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” Is her only answer. “She’s cute.” Jessica zips up her leather coat, pulls on some leather gloves, and trades her boots for sneakers. Then she opens the door, and steps out. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” She smirks, and leans into the car through the open doorway. “I’d move this thing if I were you.” She says tapping the hood. “I’ll find you when I need to.”

“Wait, what about-” He flinches as the door thuds shut. “Never mind. Wasn’t important or anything.”

 

Jessica’s been jogging almost a kilometer when she finally reaches the fence of the facility. She checks for cameras, or patrol from behind the forest line. There’s a camera permanently trained on the entirety of the fence. Not to mention barbed coils, and an ominous electric hum emanating from some thin wires that crisscross the chain-links of the fence itself.

“Okay then.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a Bluetooth earpiece, securing it to her ear. She then pulls out her ResCard. “Hey, Posh.” She calls.

“Hello, Miss Jones,” responds the British voice through her earpiece.

“Can you tell me if this place has aerial security?”

“Will you allow me to temporarily release one of my nanites from the cluster?”

“Um. Will it come back?”

“Whenever you request, it automatically geo-locate the position of its home cluster, and return in the most efficient manner possible. Alternatively, you can request that the nanite return when its task has been completed.”

“That’s good to know. Can I release more than one at a time?”

“You can release them all if you want. One of the cluster will stay on your person, and the rest will disperse to their tasks if you so wish. The cluster will recongregate on command, or as each unit completes its assigned task.”

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“I would be inclined to agree, Miss Jones. Do you wish to activate Fractal Mode?”

“No, um. Just send out the one? Oh, and can you send out another one to like, try and find Ben Parker's old office?”

“Instructions vague. Do you wish to locate the office alone? Or breach the office interior.”

“Um. Locate. Just find it.”

“Understood. Deploying two single-unit nanites.” Nothing appeared to happen as far as Jessica could discern. “Do you wish to activate a return sequence?”

“Sure. Um, tell the first one to return when it's done, and the other one to return when I reach the office.”

“Understood. Unit one has returned. No aerial security on this section of the wall.”

“That was fast.”

“I would be inclined to agree, Miss Jones.”

“Cool. Going in then. Cover my back.”

“Understood.” At this Jessica waits for the patrolling security to wander to another section of wall before getting a running start and vaulting over the fence, barbed wire and all. Once inside she stays low to the ground, creeping closer to a large, boring, annoyingly generic facility building. Once she’s in its shadow she presses herself to a wall.

“Can you find me a way in?”

“There’s a window two-stories directly above you.” Posh replies. “Room actively in use, but currently unoccupied.”

“Clear hallway?”

“Affirmative. However, the duration of vacancy is unconfirmed. I would suggest you accelerate your entrance.”

“Right. Can you give me an all clear?”

“Affirmative.”

“Nano-tech is the shit, and I think I might legally have to respect Starkey now.” She murmurs to herself.

“I would be inclined to agree, Miss Jones.”

“You should be inclined to mind your own damn business.” She retorts.

“Understood.” Jessica rolls her eyes. “All clear.” At this Jessica jumps straight into the air, parallel to the six-story building. She makes it to the third floor before beginning her descent, and latching her gloved fingers onto the ledge of the second story window. She grips the narrow ledge with one hand, and grunts as she releases with the other. Lifting her right hand, she forms claws with her fingers, and locks them into place. Pushing slowly, she watches small crakes form where her fingertips are pressing into the glass with increasing pressure. Almost silently the tiny cracks around her fingers splinter and chip.

“Like digging through butter.” She mumbles as the window gives way around her hand, forming a jagged hole. She slowly widens the hole until she can slink her way through it mostly unscathed. “That took too long.” She sighs as slides onto the floor of what appears to be a storage room. She makes her way to the door and it opens easily. Peeking out she notices the hallway is clear. “Okay Posh. Take me to the office.”

“Understood. Make a left here.” The interior of the facility is just as dull and mundane as the outside. The walls are varying shades of faded cream, and white. The floor is a sad grey vinyl of some sort that creeps almost an inch up the walls, forming unpleasant borders. Fluorescent lighting gives the whole building an earie, impersonal feeling, and bathes the hallways in a light that distorts already unpleasant colours into an aesthetic abomination. In a pathetic attempt to mask the dismal design, fake plants, and occasional artwork has been placed sparsely throughout the hallways by someone either entirely incompetent, or someone intentionally spiteful. Jessica pads on silent feet through the winding hallways. “At the end of this hallway is a door to the fire escape stairwell.” Near the end of the hallway, Jessica passes a large painting of grey splatters on darker grey splatters, layered on even darker grey abstractions.

“Inspiring.” She scoffs, opening the door with too little caution. A figure on the other side of the door grunts as they’re struck, stunning them, and giving Jessica precious seconds to subdue the stocky figure. Natasha’s lessons from the past few days kick in, and Jessica efficiently has what appears to be a woman in a chokehold. With one arm around her neck, Jessica wraps her other hand around the woman’s mouth, and plugs her nose. Jessica’s cheek is pressed to the back of the woman’s head, and she waits until she feels the body go limp in her arms. She releases the woman quickly, and checks her pulse, and breathing before looking over her clothes. The woman is noticeably bigger than her, and is dressed in a blue lab-coat over a rumpled grey pantsuit maybe a size too small for her body. Still too big for Jessica, but it would have to do.

“Life gives you lemons,” she hums to herself as she strips the woman, and puts the ill-fitting suit over her own clothes. “You tell life to go fuck herself.” She completes her mantra. The woman is of East-Asian descent, but they do have a similar hair colour, and style. She runs her hands a couple times through the woman’s hair and places the loose strands on the lab-coat, and suit she’s now wearing. Friction loosely adheres the strands to the clothing. Jessica then checks the pockets, finding a pack of gum, and a cellphone in the slacks, a small notebook and a pen in the breast pocket, and a company access card in the front pockets. “Bingo. Thanks a bunch, Emily Kim.” Jessica reads, then she heaves the half-naked woman over her shoulder, and peeks back out the door. The hallway she just came from is clear. She bundles Kim in a corner, and removes the grey blob painting off the wall. The space behind is was shades lighter, revealing that the wall was once an almost pristine white, instead of the odd cream colour it resembles now. “Gross.” Jessica feels the wall for a moment. Knocking gently. “Alright.” With a deft movement, she punches the wall. Watching it crumble into itself, she carves a decently person-sized hole. “Posh, is the drywall, or insulation back there really toxic?”

“Remarkably the insulation seems to be of relatively low toxicity.”

“Sweet.” She says, lifting Kim from the corner. “I don’t feel good about what I’m about to do. She says, and gently lowers the limp body in the space between the wall. Jessica replaces the painting, and tries to spread the tiny bits of dust, and debris into inconspicuousness on the floor in front of the hole. “I hope I don’t have to do that every time.”

“Yes. The lead paint may be of concern in the future.”

“Shit.” Jessica says as she briefly considers removing the woman. “Was there a lot of it?”

“Lead paint? Negative. Just trace amounts.”

“It’ll have to do,” she says before sneaking around the corner, and peeking her head cautiously through the stairway door. She slips inside. “How far down?”

“All the way.”

“Here goes nothing.”

 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Of my many functions, I find that one to be a physical impossibility, Miss Jones.”

“Really, Posh.” The ResCard has led her to a large expanse of stone,

“Our calculations indicate that there is a system of interconnected chambers beyond this walled off area.”

“Fucking hive-mind” Jessica rolls her eyes and braces herself. She cocks back her fist and strikes the wall. Too hard. The momentum thrusts her forward through the wall, she stumbles inside, coughing, and waving away the dust. She’s inside what appears to be a hallway. The only light comes from the deserted stairwell she just punched out of. “Can you like, glow or something?”

“What intensity of illumination-”

“Just light up. Okay?”

“Understood.” Posh begins to fill the area with a gentle cool yellow glow.

“It looks like there was a whole other floor here that they just walled up. It’s all just hallways and closed doors.” She mumbles. “Which one is Parkers?”

“Circumstantial evidence indicates that Benjamin Parker operated from multiple areas of this building. His personal office, however, appears to be the farthest door on the right.”

“Right.” She paces slowly, checking around corners. “This feels like a horror movie. Nothings going to jump out at me, right?” Suddenly a shrill note pierces her ear. Jessica whirls, and tenses for attack.

“Incoming call from ‘Trish Walker’.” Informs Posh.

“What the hell. Are you malfunctioning?”

“You requested an override stating that should Trish Walker call more than three times within a five-minute time period, she should be forwarded directly to you, regardless of circumstance. Would you like to change this setting?”

“Fuck. Yes? No? I don’t know. I’ll fix it later, put the call through.”

“Hey Jess.” Trish’s voice filters through the phone.

“Hey, are you alright?” Jessica continues to stalk forward. ResCard a sphere of light in her outstretched hand.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You called me three times in five minutes?” Jessica reaches the door, and braces herself.

“I do have something urgent to tell you,” Trish informs. Jessica tries the door, and it resists. She convinces it with force. Pushing slowly through the metal door-strike in an attempt to minimize the noise.

“Okay?” Jessica opens the door slowly. Nothing happens.

“Remember that bet we made, before you went to work for Mr. Fancy?” Trish asks. Seriously?

“Seriously?” Jessica steps inside the room. It’s fairly spacious for an office. Mostly barren. There’s an empty bookshelf, a desk, a chair, and a file storage unit. “Got you,” Jessica mutters.

“What was that? Yes seriously.”

“Look. Trish, I’ve really got to go. I’m kind of working right now?”

“Um, and this is kind of important.” Trish presses.

“I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“No don’t hang up, Jessica Jones- “

“End Call,” she tells the glowing sphere.

“Understood.” The call cuts of. Jessica marches to the generic folder holder. All but the bottom drawers are unlocked, and empty. The bottom drawer gives with little persuasion as Jessica jolts it open. Inside is a single manila folder labelled ‘B.P.M & Related’. Opening it Jessica discovers a thin stack of formulae with no discernable pattern, or immediate meaning.

“Wouldn’t be a good day without some science jargon.” She stashes the folder away in her side satchel, underneath layers of Kim’s clothing. She checks around the folder cabinet, lifting it, and pulling it away from the wall. Nothing. “On to the desk.” The desk appears to be standard, synthetic wood with three drawers of its own built in. Jessica tries forcing them open, but her hands can’t find adequate purchase on the drawers. She tries digging through the wood to create her own makeshift grips, but they won’t give. The desk won’t lift from the floor, and when she tries to smash it from the top, her fists bounce back into her own face. “Ouch.” She rubs her forehead. “Okay. Think, Jessica. Fuck, I’m too sober for this shit.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, Posh? Call the Kid.”

“Understood. Dialling ‘Peter Parker’.”

“Put him on speakerphone.”

“Um, hello?” A boy’s voice whispers through the phone. She can hear someone else droning in the background, then several voices in unison.

“Hey, Peter. You join a cult?”

“What? No. I’m in school right now.”

 “Same difference,” she mutters. “Quick question for you. Pete” She places the ResCard on the desk and leans over the drawers. On the other side of the line, she hears a door, and the droning chanting sounds cut off.

“You need my help?”

“Sure. Can you tell me your uncle's full name?” She hears him inhale sharply.

“Sure.” He clears his throat. “Benjamin Parker?”

“Hm, nope. How about you what’s your full name?”

“Okay? My name is Peter Benjamin Parker.” Cute, she thinks.

“Maybe try your dad’s name?” Jessica punches one of the drawers, and draws back her fist flinching.

 “Is there something wrong with my family? Is it Aunt May?” The to drawer hisses open. Jessica releases her cradled hand. What triggered it? “Jessica?” She steels herself, curses her own stupidity, and shuts the drawer.

“Aunt May,” she says to the desk. Nothing happens. She feels like an idiot.

“There’s something wrong with Aunt May? Miss Jones!” Peter is panicked on the other end of the phone. The drawer, however, stays stubbornly shut.

“What? No. I don’t know. I’ve got nothing on your aunt.”

“Why did you say something was wrong with her then?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

“Nothing. Say more about your family.”

“Like what. Jessica this is making me uncomfortable.”

“Look Just do it kid- Peter.”

“What do you want me to say? This might be a really sad conversation.

“What, don’t like the orphaned club?” Jessica says tersely. “I’m sorry, that was mean.”

“I didn’t know you lost your family.”

“Not the point kid,” but the drawer begins to hiss open as she speaks. “The fuck it’s not.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“What, no, you’re really sweet, I feel better now, blah, blah, other stuff. Can you say that word again?” Jessica shuts the drawer for the second time.

“What word.”

“The f-word.”

“I didn’t say it. You did.” It’s like she can see him shaking his head through the phone. She scoffs.

“I meant ‘family’.” She sounds it out. Nothing happens to the desk. She kicks it, and immediately regrets her decision.

“Family?” There’s a short delay, but then. Yes! The drawer hisses open.

“This is some Fast and Furious level bullshit,” Jessica mutters under her breath. “Thanks, Petey.” She says. “Go back to class, or don’t. Honestly, I don’t care.”

“Um. Okay. Did I help?”

“Sure, did Pete. Gold stickers all around.” She hangs up him, shutting off whatever reply he was going to make. “Hey Posh, go round and glowy again.”

“Understood.” Jessica picks up the light and peers into the drawer. Inside are three folders. The first is labeled ‘Active Intercellular Micro-organism’. The second is ominously titled ‘The Company.’ “Bingo” Jessica congratulates herself. The third folder is simply titled ‘family’. “Well fuck me dry.” She curses. “This really is some race-car-movie family crap.” She closes the top drawer partially, and easily tugs open the bottom drawer. Inside is a printed photograph of what appears to be Peter? He’s aged though, and the photo looks to be too old for that to make sense. Beside him is a slightly shorter man. They look clearly related. “Hey Posh? Tell Mega-Man I need to borrow the kid when I get back.”

“Sending message to ‘Tony Stark’.” The sphere confirms. Jessica drops the photo into the ‘family’ file and slips all three folders into her satchel, with their counterpart from the wall cabinet.

Jessica takes one last glance around the office when an alarm from somewhere in the building begins to blare.

“Shit. That’s probably for me. Posh, go flat and dark again. What’s the fastest way out?”

“It requires you return to the stairwell. That was the only viable entry point.”

“What? Why?” Jessica asks. She’s already moving though.

“The rest of the walls on this floor are created from the same material on the desk.”

“Out the same way then.” She charges back, pausing briefly at a door with a thin rectangular glass pane. It’s the entrance to a lab. “Quick detour.” She tells herself. She punches the glass and it shatters, it’s too far to reach the handle from the inside though. “Shoot. Think. Posh can you hack it?”

“Affirmative. It will take approximately three three-minutes and twelve-seconds.

“Too long. For get it.” Shaking her head, she looks down at herself, stuffed in Kim’s clothing. Gasping, she reaches into her pocket, and pulls out the access card. She presses it to the door and hears a soft metallic chime. She pushes gently and the door swings easily open. She slips inside, and the door shuts behind her with a gentle click. It barely mutes the incessant blaring of the alarm emanating from the rest of the building. She stubbornly tunes it out, and rushes to the other side of the lab.

The wall contains what appears to be an industrial size fridge. She yanks hard on the door, and hears something clank and break. Inside the fridge are neatly packed away vials of something. Literally labelled ‘STG’. Jessica shrugs, and selects the first thin row of them, neatly packed away in some case, holding them stable.

“Posh, do these have to stay cold?”

“Inconclusive. Without analyzing the structure, I am unable to assess accurate temperate necessities.”

“Well, can you find me a, transport cooler, or something? Fast?”

“Affirmative. Nanite has been deployed… Transport cooler located in the padlocked cupboard to your immediate right.”

Jessica turns, and faces the wall cupboard. Taking a deep breath, she punches through the vinyl, and faces no resistance. She grabs the thing that most looks like a thin cooler, shoves the line of vials inside, turns back to the now broken freezer, and scans for any other vials. All of them are clear, and she doesn’t have the time to look through all of the labels. “Posh, any other kinds of whatever this is?”

“Inconclusive. With analyzing the structure, I am-”

“Labels. Any different labels?”

“Affirmative. Four rows down, one row above the vial you have already acquired. It would appear that formula is the most popular” Posh continues, but Jessica is already rearranging vials, and padding them as well as she can.

“Okay. Now get me out.”

“Trajectory is the same.”

“Locate Happy.” Jessica shoves the cooler into her bag, and barrels her way through the lab.

“Locating Happy Hogan.” Posh intones. There are footsteps coming from the upper stairwell, voices shouting orders. The alarm is nearly intolerable when she finally makes it into the stairwell herself.

“Where now?”

“Up two flights. The window on that floor is the closest exit point in the direction of Happy Hogan.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Jessica cracks her neck, and shakes out her gloved hands. “Okay.” The alarm is still blaring. The voices are drifting farther away, but the footsteps are coming closer. Jessica looks up and sees hands on the guardrail. “Shit, okay.” She whispers. “Posh give me some epic music. I’m not doing this without a badass soundtrack”

“Playing music from your playlist ‘Epic Badass Müde Müsic’” Immediately the hard guitar of the first song begins streaming in her ears. A smirk declares its place on Jessica’s lips.

“Okay.” Tensing, she jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this instalment. I’m really trying to get into her head. I’ve had some trouble with character voice before, so this was really good practice for me. If I’m being entirely honest, I speak more like Posh than Jessica. This is also really cathartic because I don’t cuss. Like ever… So, writing Jessica is like giving that shameful little part of my brain a sliver of sunlight (⊃‿⊂).   
> If you want to know the song that plays at the end there LMK in the comments, and I’ll post those. Might be fun to read along with the mood music. Actually, in all honesty, I do have a mood playlist for this FIC on the YouTubes. If you want me to link that as well I’d be happy!  
> Comments and Kudos save lives…XD. Of course: Happy Reading, and Be Good to People!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, I hope you enjoy it! I don’t know how much traffic – if any – this fic is going to get.  
> I created this because I want to practise my storytelling, worldbuilding, and character development skills. I am VERY OPEN to constructive criticism! I am also open to suggestions. I do have a full story skeleton so it will be finished eventually XD! Happy Reading, and Be Good to People.


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